


it's a hug.

by scullay



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-09 23:46:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18648577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scullay/pseuds/scullay
Summary: if peter had decided a little earlier he wanted to make his own choices. if he wondered, just a little, what team cap would be like for a fifteen year old aspiring superhero.or, if peter parker slipped tony stark's radar and joined team cap.





	it's a hug.

maybe cap wouldn’t have made him come to germany at all. maybe peter watches the news and is suddenly terrified. he’s fifteen, not an idiot and understands what it means to sign your name on a piece of paper, indebted to someone else. he’s been to school, he thinks, and knows the consequences of history.

maybe, for a few days, he stays under the radar, watches his back, relies so heavily on his extra senses that he’s answering questions before the words have left his teachers' mouths. his identity is not like a prison anymore, not a cage to keep him contained. it feels like insurance, like one day he might not have it anymore and that thought terrifies him.

(he’s scared of getting caught, for the first time since getting bit and creating the suit and donning the guise of superhero. he is scared that someone, tin and gold and red, will take him away, force his hand on an accord and sanction him for something he cannot help but do.)

maybe, in the end, peter finds his away to germany anyway. lying to aunt may is not an easy thing to do, and it drives a knife into his stomach to tell her it’s a field trip. it might take a few days, he says. it might take his life, he doesn’t say. but if there’s something aunt may taught him, when he was young and sitting on the front steps, waiting for his parents to come home, is that sometimes you have to fight to stay grounded. fight to change and endure.

peter has endured a lot. when he looks at ned, he wonders what ned would do in his situation. if he would go to germany and fight for something he knows is right, knows with his entire body he has to fight to protect and change. maybe he’s not entirely sure on the rules of his fight, the bylaws of this accord, the implication of his actions, but he knows that doing nothing, being targeted for being the way he is, isn’t something he wants to stand behind.

maybe captain america is a man in a leather jacket and skin like impenetrable steel. maybe peter remembers watching the news, seeing the explosion, seeing the man fight to protect and endure and change. maybe standing up for a neighborhood has taught peter the world was just one giant community, ready to endure.

steve rogers sits peter down and tells him this doesn’t have to be his fight. maybe he tells him the world is too big, too hungry, too dead-set on ending peter before he’s even begun. maybe peter hesitates, because no one told him it would be hard. he’s fifteen, not stupid, but the suit makes him think strange things, makes him feel invincible and strong and maybe that’s the point of a hero.

(maybe steve feels a bit like a hypocrite. what happened when enough people told him _no_? what happened when someone sat him down, told him the world was too hard, too sharp, to hard-broiled for a young, weak kid like him?)

“i want to, sir,” peter says. they all watch as he looks between them. he’s fifteen and curly haired and one brush of life would cut him down. but he looks them over. he sees people like him, people with histories and lives and pain-staking hardship that feels tangible in the air. he sees people like him, and maybe that’s enough.

he says, “i want to.”

wanda cannot control their fear, only her own. maybe peter eyes her, sees her, understands her. he had no one to tell him how to be a hero, and like wanda, maybe no one had to. maybe wanda is sick of being controlled and manipulated, told to follow the set of instructions for how to be a hero. and peter feels that, in a way. being a hero was not a contract signed and labeled. being a hero was not something deployed and ordered.

maybe bucky looks at peter, unmasked and pink-cheeked and wide-eyed, surrounded by heroes and maybe he sees steve. the kid who wouldn’t give up. the kid who was told no enough times and just did it himself anyways. the kid who was told to sit down, sit back, be quiet, let the adults do the work. the kid who turned around and became _their_ hero.

maybe that says enough about peter to let him stay. no one tells him to go, because it is not only their fight to control. it is not their race to protect bucky, not their mission to secure his future. maybe peter thinks of aunt may, of ned, maybe of his parents. no one told him to be here, convinced him to come, manipulated him with toys and gadgets and grandeur. maybe peter, fifteen, decided he would be the hero anyways.

and maybe peter is scared. his breath comes in ragged behind the mask and his eyes flicker, taking in too much at once, too many angles and wide open spaces and how did he get here? he shouldn’t be here. he needs—he needs—

“sit,” clint barton says and peter's keens buckle under him and he starts to collapse before clint moves fast to catch him and lower him to a sit on the ground. he is cautious with peter, uncertain but maybe he doesn’t let go. “deep breaths, kid. in and out.”

“in and out.” he is scared, but maybe so are they. maybe this is what being a hero is. he is unsure if this is what being a hero is, but isn’t that the point? to figure it out? to be with them as they figure it out?

“it’s okay, just take deep breaths. it’ll pass in a second, don’t worry.”

(“if you want to go—“

“no,” he insists, breath caught and slowed in his throat. he looks at the man, and his breath hitches at the kindness, the brutal ease in which he smiles calmingly, reflexively. like he understands peter’s need to get up and get out there and—)

in the end, peter is not steve’s secret weapon. he walks with them, out across the lot. he walks with them, alongside them, strides between clint and scott, hands clenched and muscles bunched. he thinks, _this is it_ , and that means something.

in the end, peter is not used. he stands for what he believes in, not what someone else convinces him is right.

though, captain america’s shield is heavy. it is weighted with years of pressure and expectance and respect and responsibility, and for a moment, he does not want it. for a moment, he is scared again and there are flashes of light and scouring, shrieking metal and howling wind and he is scared, again, caught up in someone else’s fight.

but he thinks about ned, about aunt may, about ben and his parents. thinks about wanda, her face twisted in agony, about bucky, panting and scared, about scott, who just wants to go home. peter thinks that being a hero is not weighted in a shield. it’s somewhere else, a place somewhere within, something you don’t need to have, but somewhere, someplace, always is.

he slingshots the shield to bucky, who catches it and whips it towards steve, who grabs it in time to avoid the searing blast from tony stark’s beam.

all peter can see for a minute is stars.

he isn’t sure who wins, or if anyone does. he knows the battle is taken somewhere else, someone else’s fight taken along with steve and bucky and tony stark, zipping across the sky. maybe the fight all along wasn’t what they wanted it to be. maybe all along, peter was fighting for himself, the same way everyone else is.

he isn’t quite sure who wins, only that he slings scott’s arm over his shoulder and wanda limps towards them, clint under her arm. sam swoops down, stumbles a little, his face pulled taut, but waves them towards the van and they all shuffle inside like criminals. though clint is laughing, and sam whoops and scott is raving about his height, and the wind up there and did you see that—

and peter looks at them all, the fight taken and belonging to someone else now, and he feels . . .

“we did it,” he says and looks around at them and almost wants to laugh too.

but before they’re apprehended and stolen and taken away to dissect and lock away later, wanda sharply inhales and takes his hand and hisses, “go. this part is not for you.”

sirens wail and scott curses and clint darts towards him and holds his shoulders and smiles around the weariness in his bones and says, “trust me, kid, this is not part of the super team you wanna be apart of. you’re not ready yet.”

“ready yet? but—“ then wanda touches his cheek and he thinks he gets it. thinks he can see may with her hand over her mouth as his name and face is plastered across the the t.v.'s around the world, can see the fear and horror on her face, can almost feel the way she wants to come apart in terror, searching for someone she didn’t know she loved also.

“yeah,” he rasps, stepping away, already thinking of an excuse for when he gets home. “but what about you?”

“oh, prison?” scott waves his hand. “no big thang, spidey.”

he looks at clint. clint laughs, shaking his head. “we’re superheroes. what’re they gonna do, lock _her_ in a cell?”

wanda smiles. she waves as peter jogs towards back to the airport to shed out of his skin and sam yells, “thanks for your assistance, spider-man! we really appreciate you!”

and something fills in his stomach that’s akin to happiness. joy. a newfound pride. he glances back and waves.

they all wave back.

maybe he doesn’t meet tony stark right away, and maybe that’s okay. maybe peter thinks that signing a piece of paper to sell away his right to privacy, to heroism, to control is not what he wants at fifteen. maybe he has lots of time before he figures out just exactly who he wants to be, room to grow before he sides with anyone else.

maybe aunt may grabs him and pulls him against her chest when he gets home and exclaims, “oh, i missed you! tell me everything. did you see, um, well what’s in germany? tell me!”

he thinks he will, one day. when he figures out who he is first.

maybe that’s all he needed—sam wilson to tell him he was appreciated, he was worth it, what he was doing was valued and respected and he was _someone_. maybe peter doesn’t need the recognition, but maybe somewhere, the hero in him would like a little acknowledgement for who he is, what he’s done.

maybe aunt may’s hug is enough, too. he is scared and worried and he knows he is lying, making excuses and reasons not to tell her, but when he thinks about the alternative, being ransomed for someone else’s use, he thinks holding his secret is better than giving it to someone else.

steve rogers did not wrench his mask off and tell him who he was—peter had taken off his own identity and trusted the man to keep in his hands, holding it the same way peter had. and he does. peter gets home, and months go by, and no one comes to find him and shackle him the same way the others are.

maybe he improves his suit himself. maybe he figures it out on his own, teaching himself stitching and textured spandex and stretchy material and web-slingers and goggles and maybe it’s not the best, but it’s not the worst, because it’s his. maybe he learns early that he doesn’t need the suit to be spider-man.

maybe when he texts steve rogers, he texts back.

maybe he calls clint barton, he reminds him to breathe, that his body is his own, operated by him and him alone, and each breath he takes is his, operated by him, owned by him. maybe it gets a little easier to breathe.

maybe he meets sam wilson and whispers, “was it worth it? was i good enough? will it get better?” and sam wilson sits him down and says, “yes.” maybe it’s all he needed to hear.

maybe wanda is harder to find, more difficult to reach, less accessible than the others, but maybe when he needs her, she finds him. maybe they sit together and he tells her all her own feelings and she tells him all his own feelings and it’s like sameness, kin to kin, and maybe it gets easier to be a hero, to learn how.

(maybe scott lang shouts over the phone, “hey, spidey! saw you on the news! holy shit kid, you’re cool as fu—all hell! oh wait, are you in school? hey, go to school, don’t end up in jail like me! but keep up the good work! we believe in you!”)

aunt may tucks his hair behind his hear and smiles, says, “i’m proud of you, peter.” he wonders if she knows. if she wakes up in the middle of the night to his window opening and slowly sliding shut and she clenches a fist to her heart, nervous and relieved. if she waits, for him. waits for him to tell her first.

maybe when peter has to fight his own battle, he is not alone. when he needs help, he gets it. when he faces the villain, the ultimatum, the tricky trust, the plot in the making, he knows he can do it. he knows if he wants, if it’s what he chooses, they’re there to listen to him, and trust him, and _believe_ him. maybe that’s what being a hero is—relying and trusting and believing.

maybe tony stark teaches him that there are people in the world who want to help, but aren’t quite good at it. there are some people in the world who want to do good, but can’t quite wrap their hands around doing it best. maybe peter looks to mr. stark and sees someone who needs help, as much as he did. maybe that’s what being a hero is; recognizing those who needs help as much as he did.

maybe when the world falls apart, they’ll be better at helping. maybe he won’t be the cataclysmic catalyst for someone else’s determination to save the world. maybe he’s just peter parker, who wanted to help save the world the only way he knew how. maybe he goes up and up and away by his own volition, and maybe he does not stand for _let the adults speak, parker_.

maybe before all that, before the end of the world, and before he goes away, and in between him accepting himself as a hero, aunt may brushes her fingers through his hair and says, “you know, i’m proud of you, right? you’re—you’re doing so _good_ , peter.”

she must know. so he puts his head on her shoulder and promises himself, promises scott and steve and clint and wanda and bucky and sam and ned and his parents and aunt may that he will. he won’t have to sign his name on a piece of paper to do good, to be good, to know right from wrong.

aunt may smiles at him. she tugs his earlobe until he laughs. “now go take out the trash. maybe dumpster-dive for some other teenager’s missing backpack.”

he goes. before he shuts the door, he glances at her over his shoulder and watches her smile, waving him out. he smiles, waving back.


End file.
